


The Lion Learning To Be The Lamb

by Llama1412



Series: Families of Choice [2]
Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: F/M, Getting Together, Minor Violence, Mother-Daughter Relationship, Politics
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-12
Updated: 2020-04-12
Packaged: 2021-02-23 10:07:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,925
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23609770
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Llama1412/pseuds/Llama1412
Summary: Calanthe didn’t trust easily. Emotions had no place in ruling, she’d learned that on her father’s knee. So how was it that Eist had managed to worm his way into her heart?Part of the Families of Choice series, but the only foreknowledge needed for this fic is that Calanthe and Jaskier are childhood friends.
Relationships: Calanthe Fiona Riannon & Eist Tuirsach, Calanthe Fiona Riannon & Pavetta, Calanthe Fiona Riannon/Eist Tuirseach, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion, mentioned
Series: Families of Choice [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1660492
Comments: 3
Kudos: 86





	The Lion Learning To Be The Lamb

**Author's Note:**

> I have always wanted to write fantasy politics! Figuring out the background for the fic was like a dream come true, honestly. But I also realize most people haven’t spent hours staring at and replicating the Witcher’s world map, so please let me know if anything is unclear!
> 
> Updated the rating for violence, just in case.

Court was cutthroat. None knew that better than her, Crown Princess Calanthe, only child to King Dagorad. Oh, boys and girls were raised the same in Cintra – the only leftover from the Elvish land they’d conquered. A Queen could rule Cintra without a King. In theory.

In practice, it was _tradition_ going back generations that men who married into the family would automatically inherit the throne, whether there was a living Queen or not. And she was a girl. To many nobles, her only use was to sire a boy. So she had to marry, whether she wanted to or not. Her responsibility to Cintra meant she must bear an heir. Her bloodline must continue, for the good of her people.

Everything she did, she did for Cintra. That was her duty. At times, she enjoyed it more than others – she did so love any opportunity to spar. But at times her duty was...less enjoyable.

However, doing what was best for her country didn’t mean her life had to be unbearable, not if she had any say in the matter. She only needed a husband for as long as it took to ensure the line of succession. 

That time may have been unpleasant, but at least she could say that was largely because Roegner was a boorish lout. He was a lowly duke who thought he was somebody because he married into a crown – as if that meant anything. The will to rule was something you had or something you didn’t. If you had the will, the skill could be cultivated. If you didn’t, no amount of ambition in the world would give you a successful reign.

Pavetta had the will. She was young, but Calanthe could tell. So Calanthe would cultivate that skill. Cintra needed the best ruler possible, and Calanthe could ensure that Pavetta had all she needed to succeed.

The idiots she was slowly weaning out of court may think only male heirs are of value, but she would show them. She was the Lioness, and she was Queen. No one would be permitted to oppose her.

That was what made court so cutthroat. Well, not just that, of course. She had known all her life that politics would demand much of her. That was fine. She would meet anything that came for her with a sword in her hand. No one would ever say the Lioness gave up without a fight.

Perhaps that was her problem. She never could back down from a fight. There was just something so satisfying about being _done_ with an enemy, and she hungered for it sometimes. 

And then there was Eist Tuirseach. Eist was well-favored in his clan, and with Skellige and Cintra as close allies, he often managed to find his way into Cintra’s court – whether she wanted him to or not.

It’s not that she didn’t like Eist. He just...he made her want things that duty would not permit.

He was totally devoted to her. She couldn’t understand it. It was ridiculous – he was the subject of another kingdom, even potentially in line for his own throne. And yet from the first moment she’d met him, he had done anything and everything for her. He had managed to maneuver his way into her court and charmed his way into her confidence. She wasn’t foolish – Eist was known for his charm with women, as clever with his coy smile as his warrior’s hands.

That was not what drew her to him. If anything, spending time with him initially went against her better instincts. She didn’t have the patience to put up with _men_ , much less those who think they’re being appealing when they talk over her. 

Only Eist never spoke over her. He was one of the few people who genuinely listened to her.

Even so, Calanthe was careful. She littered her statements with enough false intel that if any of it turned up, she would know who had betrayed her.

He never did.

She didn’t understand it. How could he just – decide to dedicate himself to her? Eist could easily vie for the Skelligen throne, and instead he claimed he only wanted to be hers? How could she possibly trust that?

But over the years, he remained true. Even as he flit in and out of Cintra, he tried to win her over. 

He let her talk through policy decisions when she was uncertain, like whether to continue her father’s decision to break ties with the Brotherhood of Sorcerers. He let her lecture him about the ramifications of either choice, and then he told her to stop and ask what her gut was telling her and why. Eist pointed out that she seemed to have very clear rationalizations in the ‘pro-continued-isolation’ column (how could she trust an advisor with divided loyalty? Mages were known to be loyal first to the Brotherhood, not to the country they served), while the ‘con’ column seemed mostly based on guilt.

Calanthe thought that was ridiculous, right up until the moment she realized that she _did_ feel bad about continuing the lack of diplomatic relations when her own mother had actually been quite close to the Brotherhood. Though Queen Adalia had ultimately chosen not to become a sorceress, she was a very powerful magic user and since Calanthe’s marriage, she had left Cintra and lived in Aretuza as a guest.

Calanthe scoffed to herself – why should she feel guilty? Despite her mother’s friendships, she had eventually supported her father’s decision to cut ties. It was the best decision for Cintra, and Calanthe’s duty was to her kingdom first and foremost. She had learned long ago that emotions had no place in ruling. It had been her father’s first lesson to her.

However, Calanthe could admit that _knowing_ why she felt conflicted did make it easier to make the decision. Eist had given her that, and she would never _tell_ him, but she was grateful.

He looked at the world in a different way than she did, and she always left their conversations feeling like she understood the world better. It was a strange but intoxicating feeling – the giddiness of feeling like the world finally made sense, the itch to share every little thing that happened to her just to have another conversation, the awe she felt every time Eist shared something vulnerable about himself. He was her _friend_ , she realized. 

She’d never had many friends. Having friends as a Queen was...unique. There were always conditions in any relationship, because her duty must always come first. Although admittedly, Calanthe was better at making enemies than friends, when left to her own devices. 

Julian had been her first friend. He understood the limitations her duty placed on their relationship, and he still offered his friendship willingly. And he was so very audacious – Calanthe truly did love that about him. She had never had Julian’s flare for drama, but she did enjoy entertainment.

Eist was different. In some ways, he was just as audacious as Julian. He made a show of being good with women, fluttered around court flirting his way into people’s confidences. But at the end of the night, it was her that Eist brought any valuable information to. He always did that – sought out the best ways to serve her and carried through without waiting for approval.

It was maddening. Why would this man, this fearsome warrior in his own right pledge himself to her? At no cost? That wasn’t how the world worked. 

Though she offered him nothing, Eist remained an ear she could talk to. She even spoke to him about her struggles raising Pavetta, about her fears as a mother. Eist listened intently, and he always offered such honest advice. 

Honesty was such a rare thing in court. Calanthe had learned to lie as early as she had learned to speak – such was the way of politics. She knew how meaningless words were, how people could look you in the eye and promise friendship while stabbing you in the back.

But Eist meant every word he said to her. And no, that wasn’t a line he had used on her, though it certainly sounded like one he might try. No, after all these years, Calanthe was coming to truly trust that Eist would never betray her.

That’s what made his marriage proposals so surprising. He had to know she couldn’t seriously consider it – she refused to ever let herself be outshone by a King and now that she had borne an heir, there was no need to. She wanted to maintain the close alliance with the Skellige Islands, of course. That was why she arranged the betrothal to Eist’s nephew, Crach an Craite. The boy was crass, young, and full of himself, but he could be controlled. Until Pavetta was ready to take over, Calanthe would maintain her power, even if King Crach an Craite must be crowned.

It helped that promising Pavetta to the boy meant her idiot husband’s secret pact with Destiny would be circumvented. As if she’d let some nobody knight inherit her crown! She had it all neatly planned to work out in the best possible way for Cintra.

Why could men never have the decency to follow her plans? And Pavetta – how could her daughter care about this – this _thing_ that stood before her at the feast?

She knew she had lost control the moment the Witcher stepped into the battle. And then Eist, that absolute idiot who had _never_ opposed her before, stood in defense of Destiny. Damn him.

Calanthe did not appreciate her hand being forced. But she would not let Destiny take him from her. And when the dust had settled, she appreciated the sheer gall he had, to declare his proposal accepted. He had known she would agree, of course. She would always do what was best for her kingdom. She could not let this backwater knight claim Cintra’s crown, and by law, any man a Princess married took authority from the sitting Queen unless there was a living King. Eist knew she would accept – Cintra needed the alliance with Skellige, and if Destiny insisted on being a bitch and throwing a hedgehog in her court, then she would do her duty. And if she happened to find love and happiness in this path – well, that was a satisfying bonus to doing her duty. She deserved it, after all the work she’d done.

––

Eist was a wonderful ally in court. He willingly took a backseat, with little interest in royal duties. He knew she would not stand in shadows, and he gladly let her take command. Eist understood the political maneuverings of court, he was ambitious himself . And now her will was his. 

It was an ideal partnership.

If only Pavetta didn’t insist on being at odds with her. She disagreed with the way Calanthe ruled Cintra – which, it’s not as if these differences don’t arise in every monarchy, but this was somehow so much harder than Calanthe ever expected.

Pavetta had the will to rule, and Calanthe knew she would be a wonderful ruler some day, even if they disagreed on specific policies. But Pavetta insisted on leaning into emotion to rule, and she’d gotten bolder about opposing her mother since she’d married the man she wanted. Pavetta just didn’t seem to understand that Calanthe could not allow her emotions to rule her! Did she want to make decisions she knew would bother her daughter? Of course not! She did not enjoy ordering villages exterminated, but when rebels and spies had indoctrinated a whole community, there was little she could do. The elves needed to be removed from Cintra’s borders, for the protection of her kingdom and her subjects. But Pavetta didn’t understand that, didn’t believe in the treachery of elves. Pavetta thought that mercy was a show of strength. She didn’t understand that their enemies would tear them apart at the first sign of weakness. More often than not these days, their conversations ended in raised voices followed by frigid silence.

Calanthe could feel her daughter slipping through her grasp, and she had no idea how to stop it.

So she responded the only way she knew how. If Destiny wanted to mess with her family, let it try. She was the Lioness and she would fight any that threatened what was _hers_. So she did what she did best – she fortified the castle, stationed guards around Pavetta, and began the work of shoring up their borders. She would not let any power threaten Cintra.

She started her show of might by taking Cintra’s northern neighbor and claiming Velen as a vassal state. Velen’s main borders were Brugge, a small kingdom with relatively little value, and Brokilon Forest. Brokilon Forest had cut down many attempted conquerors. It remained a constant threat. Like all non-humans, dryads couldn’t be trusted; treachery was part of their blood. She needed to eliminate the threat before it gained strength and made a move against Cintra. The cost of war in supplies and men would be high, but was it possible? Could Brokilon be claimed?

If Cintra had the additional resources from Brugge, perhaps. At any rate, Calanthe had been thinking of expanding their borders eastward for some time. Lyria stood east of Cintra, with Brugge in the north and Sodden in the south separating the two powers. Lyria was powerful and their army was fierce – but there had been recent incursions into Sodden that Calanthe hadn’t decided how to respond to yet. War with Lyria would be costly, and powerful allies in the North were more likely to side with Queen Meve over Calanthe. But the incursions were Lyria teasing the idea, wanting to see how she would respond. And Calanthe did not back down from a fight. 

As she lay out various possibilities on the map in her War Room, she decided that, yes, taking Brugge would be an appropriate response to Lyria’s aggression. It would also get Cintra more supplies and more men, which could be used to fortify the new border with Brokilon.

Calanthe proposed the idea to her Council of Advisors the following day. Her Council consisted of 6 people: King Eist, Princess Pavetta, Prince Duny, Mousesack, her Lady’s Maid Marzanna who also happened to be head of her intelligence service, and Knight Commander Danek, the leader of her armies. They met daily to discuss the affairs of state, but those discussions could get a bit heated on occasion. After her third shouting match with Pavetta over the treatment of elves in Velen, Eist had teamed up with the rest of the council to enact a rule: if they were going to be discussing anything related to elves, Calanthe and Pavetta could present their arguments to the Council, but they could not respond to each other or the meeting would be adjourned. When either of them brought up points that needed further discussion, another councilor had to second the point to bring it to the whole group. Calanthe hadn’t truly believed they would carry through on the rule, but the first time she and Pavetta got into it, Eist had told everyone else to leave and challenged Calanthe to a spar to work off her aggression. After that, it had just made sense to regularly plan sparring sessions after Council meetings.

Her proposal definitely sparked debate. Not taking Brugge, necessarily – most of the Council was at least open to the idea – but invading Brokilon? Pavetta wasn’t the only one to object, though she was the loudest. They’d only reached a general consensus on Brugge when Mousesack had suggested considering the matters separately – clearly forseeing the argument Brokilon proved to be.

He might have hoped that Pavetta’s temper would cool down by the time they returned to discussing Brokilon. If so, he hoped in vain. She refrained from responding to Calanthe mostly by pretending her mother wasn’t there. Her words were sharp and cutting as she accused Calanthe of glory seeking at the expense of her compassion. It was only Eist’s hand on Calanthe’s thigh that kept her from blowing up at that.

Duny, the coward, decided this was the perfect time to adjourn for dinner, even though he must know by now that neither Pavetta nor Calanthe were interested in food when they were angry. In years past, mother and daughter had made a point to dine together each night. Nowadays, the couples tended to dine separately because according to Eist, “even Cintran ale can’t be enjoyed over cutting arguments”.

So when Duny dragged Pavetta away and Marzanna, Mousesack, and Danek quickly found somewhere else to be, Calanthe marched directly for the training fields. She needed to hit something, repeatedly and with excessive force.

After she’d decimated her second training dummy, she was ready to face an actual opponent. Eist was obligingly waiting in one corner of the training ring. “Care for a match?” Calanthe called.

“How about a wager?” He offered. “You let me make my argument against Brokilon while we fight. If I win, you consider my argument. If I lose, I’ll stop fighting you on this. Deal?”

Calanthe frowned and stretched her wrist. “Fine. I’ll just drive you hard enough you can’t waste breath on it.”

“You can try,” He held his sword at the ready. Never one to stay on the defense, Calanthe engaged immediately with a thrust. Eist parried with an upward block and moved in close to kick at her groin.

Calanthe dodged backwards with a grin, and came around to swing at his side. Eist met her strike for strike, and began his plea. “Brugge will not provide enough resources for Cintra to fortify our borders _and_ advance on the northern front.” He grunted when she knocked his sword aside and aimed a shoulder into his chest. He kicked sand at her to cover his retreat, and chuckled when Calanthe swore. “Take a step back and think of Brokilon as any other foe, Calanthe. Ignore that they’re dryads. What are the capabilities of Brokilon Forest?”

“That’s exactly why we must attack!” Calanthe snarled, knocking his sword aside and aiming a fist at his jaw. He dodged by a hair, and tried to tangle his foot between hers. She leapt back, and met his strike with a parry. 

“No invader has _ever_ succeeded against Brokilon, Calanthe! Ever! Do you truly believe we will be different, coming fresh off conquering both Velen _and_ Brugge?”

“King Venzlav in Brugge has always been soft on Brokilon and Queen Eithné has grown complacent at their border. If we advance quickly, surprise them with our strength, we have a chance.” She thrust her sword forward. 

He parried with his blade and twisted to slash at her wrist. “Even if Queen Eithné’s spies fail to warn her, there is no way her scouts will somehow miss our army approaching across the No Man’s Land. Our army will be moving uphill across a graveyard of previous invaders, and their archers are known to shoot from 200 feet! 200 feet, Calanthe! You’re dead before you ever see them.”

“So we shield our frontline effectively.” The flat of her blade bruised his abdomen, and Eist fell back. She moved in close for a grapple, and he struggled back against her, their weapons doing little more than adding weight to their punches.

“And what then? Say our front advances to the forest line. Mousesack’s magic is no match for the dryads’ traps!” Calanthe swung her leg forward and hooked it behind Eist’s knee as she straightened her other leg and thrust her weight against his chest. He fell backwards over her lap. He had lost and he knew it. He released his hold on her and let himself hang there, fully dependent on her strength to keep him up. “We will be outmaneuvered and outmatched, my Queen. This will be Cintra’s ruin. Please. Don’t start a fight we cannot win.”

She stared down at Eist. His face was serious, even while his sweat made his hair stick up ridiculously. He held her gaze and spoke softly. “There is strength in knowing your limits, Calanthe. Strength in knowing when to stop and hold the line; when to choose mercy, because our people need it too.” He dropped his sword and his fingers encircled her wrist where she was holding him over her leg. “You are the Lioness, you fight for Cintra. You must also know when _not_ to fight, when to conserve your strength. Please, Calanthe.”

Her grip on his tunic tightened before she pulled him upright and stepped back. “The deal was you stop arguing if you lose,” she said, her voice flat. “You lost.”

The corner of his mouth quirked up in a grin. “I usually do, against you. But I’ve said all I needed to. Just think on it, my Queen, please.”

She turned away from him, suddenly unreasonably tired. “Fine. I need space.” She set her practice sword aside to be cleaned by a squire, and strode out of the training field, not looking at Eist. 

She would consider his words, but sometimes when she needed to process, she couldn’t stand having people around. If Julian were here, she would find a bench in the garden somewhere she could hear him playing in the distance. Like that, the sound was just enough to be soothing, drowning out the buzz in her head and letting her focus on whatever she needed to sort through.

But Julian was traveling with his Witcher again, so she went to the Music Room where all of his instruments were kept instead. The only instrument she could play was the piano, and she loathed it. For her, music was meant to be heard, not produced. It was just as well she was good friends with a bard. Julian knew the way she used his music to clear her mind. He understood that she needed soft instrumental melodies, and he’d found a music box manufacturer who had been willing to create his composition. The price had been outrageous, Calanthe knew, but it was the sweetest gift she had ever received. It was a hand carved wooden box with knotwork designs along the sides. The top was sanded smooth, but when it was opened, the inside lid was engraved with a a roaring lion so that you could see it while the music played.

She wound up the box, then sat to look out the window while she thought. She was so sure Brokilon was a threat they needed to take care of before they decided to make the first move instead. But Eist was a strategist and a warrior – her own experience confirmed his warnings. Each battle would exhaust her troops. They were still recovering from Velen, and they would move on Brugge soon. And it was true, the odds of a successful surprise attack against Brokilon were minimal, even if they had already secured Brugge’s border – which they hadn’t. The dryads would no doubt monitor Cintra’s aggression against Brugge and would be ready for them.

Could Cintra win under those circumstances?

Calanthe _hated_ admitting defeat, but it was much better to do so now, before her soldiers died for her ego. It hurt, admitting that – that with her plan, they _would_ die and they would die by the score. Could she ensure that they wouldn’t die for nothing?

No commander could ever promise their troops that, of course. But it was her responsibility to make sure the circumstances were in their favor as much as possible. What was it Eist had said, _our army will be moving uphill across a graveyard of previous invaders, and their archers are known to shoot from 200 feet_? And that was before even breaching the Forest. Dryads were accomplished woodsmen, and even without magic, the traps they constructed to guard their lands were notorious. The only magic defense Cintra had was Mousesack – and one druid’s affinity for nature would be no match against the Forest’s natives.

Eist was right. Blast it, _Pavetta_ was right. This wasn’t a battle Cintra could win. 

The first rule of War she’d ever learned was that you could never fully be prepared for battle. But to pick a fight knowing that you will likely lose? The only thing she hated more than not getting a fight she was itching for was losing a fight. But Eist had a point. Perhaps she did need to learn when _not_ to fight. Calanthe had never been one to back down, but her responsibility was Cintra. And Cintra could not win the fight she wanted to pick. 

Calanthe took a deep breath and let it out slowly. She needed to tell her Council that she had changed her mind, that they would not fight Brokilon before they were prepared.

“ _Before we’re prepared_?” Pavetta scoffed when Calanthe said as much. “Great, so instead of dying now, our men can die later. How kind of you.” Her voice was blistering, and Calanthe felt her temper rising immediately.

“Don’t start that now just because we aren’t in an official meeting,” Eist scolded.

Across the dinner table, Duny piped up. “Yes, let’s just enjoy a meal together and we can revisit this in Council tomorrow.” Calanthe would have respected him for speaking up more if he didn’t end his plea with a meek, “please?”

Pathetic as Calanthe found him, Pavetta genuinely seemed to find him sweet. “All right,” she said. She turned back to her husband and proceeded to pretend that Calanthe didn’t exist as they talked about preparations for the nursery.

Calanthe’s teeth ground together. She was _trying_ , okay? She truly wanted to reconnect with Pavetta – she _missed_ her daughter! She regretted that they’d grown far enough apart that Calanthe had been completely blindsided by Pavetta’s love for Duny. But she wanted to fix that now, especially with the baby on the way. Calanthe did not want to be at odds with Pavetta.

Unfortunately, Pavetta seemed to want to be at odds with her. The change that had come over Pavetta was surprising – or perhaps Calanthe had just missed her growing up. Either way, where once the shy girl with hair hiding her face had hidden away in her room, there was now a young woman with the confidence to directly confront Calanthe. All those years staying inside while Calanthe tried to make her enjoy the sunlight, Pavetta had been reading – about politics, history, war, diplomacy, anything she could get her hands on. Pavetta had always disagreed with some elements of Calanthe’s policies, but before, her opposition had been relatively timid, easily dismissed and ignored.

That had changed since the damn hedgehog. _I will finally be free_ , Pavetta had said when she declared she would marry the man she loved. Calanthe hadn’t realized her daughter saw their duty as that much of a trap, hadn’t seen how claustrophobic Pavetta had gotten. Or perhaps she had – the way she’d held back tears during her betrothal banquet, the way she physically cringed away from approaching suitors – Calanthe had dismissed it all at the time – after all, they both wanted what was best for Cintra. Calanthe had survived her own marriage, Pavetta was certainly strong enough to survive her.

But Pavetta wanted more than survival. She wanted love. And apparently she’d found it, though Calanthe would forever look down on Duny. 

Getting what she wanted had given Pavetta the burst of confidence she needed to truly fight for what she believed. Calanthe was honestly proud of her – this was everything she wanted for her daughter: to be strong enough to lead Cintra without fear. It was just a shame that Pavetta’s idea of “what was right” was different than Calanthe’s.

Calanthe counted backwards from 20 in her head, and then tried to speak as evenly as possible. “I don’t want to fight, Pavetta,” why did just starting this conversation make her exhausted? Another frustrating thing about the situation. She took another deep breath. “Perhaps we can work together to create a policy we can both agree to?”

Calanthe’s suggestion was met with shocked silence. Next to her, Eist was smiling proudly and she felt a flutter of warmth in her chest. He would support her in this, of course he would. Eist had always supported her.

Pavetta’s eyes narrowed as her shock dissipated. “Are you being serious?”

Calanthe’s shoulder slumped slightly. She reached across the table to touch Pavetta’s hand, and was relieved when her daughter didn’t draw back. “I’m serious. I miss when we fought on the same side. I’d like to try to get there again.”

Pavetta breathed in sharply, and there was a wet sheen to her eyes. “I –” she cleared her throat, “I would like that.” Pavetta returned her timid smile, and Calanthe felt the first flash of victory she’d experienced in far too long.

Emotions had no place in ruling. That had been the first thing Calanthe had learned about running her kingdom. But perhaps...perhaps there was some flexibility there. And sometimes, sometimes Calanthe needed to be reminded how to _stop_ fighting. 

She wasn’t sure if this would be enough, if she and Pavetta could mend their relationship while they successfully took Brugge and dictated their compromised policy on the elves in Velen and Brugge. But Calanthe could try. She could try to hold on to this feeling of happiness _and_ rule effectively at the same time. Eist and Pavetta would help her. That would be enough. She would _make_ it enough. 

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, so music boxes were apparently invented in the 18th century, which is a bit after our vaguely 13th century fantasy Poland. But shhhh blame magic.  
> Couldn’t make it fit into the story, but I liked this paragraph, so:  
>  _Ciri doesn’t have the will. That’s why Calanthe shields her from the worst of court, from the worst of ruling. There were many skills necessary in court – if Ciri didn’t have the will, then she would simply have to ensure a good match. Ciri was her most precious gift, all she had left of her beloved daughter. She cultivated other skills in Ciri – the girl loved fighting and histories and dancing. These were useful skills in court – Ciri didn’t have to have the will to rule to do it well. She’d make sure Ciri had all the support she needed – she could protect Cintra AND Ciri._


End file.
